Treating Angels
by Mix Golden Phoenix
Summary: It starts with an angel falling through his roof. Soon, Adam Milligan finds himself treating a whole host of angels. He puts up with their whims and follies, lets them trounce all over the place, simply because he's a bit too stubborn to hand over the one currently staying in his guest bedroom. Naturally, this lands him in hot water. Did you know demons were a thing? Go figure.
1. Average Adam, Not So Average Guest

**A/N: A'ight, so. This is a bit of a side project of mine for when I'm not in the mood to write my main project. As such, it will probably be shorter and not updated as often as you may like. If that bothers you, dear reader... My apologies.**

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Adam Milligan was just an average nineteen-year-old. He was enrolled in an average pre-med program at the University of Wisconsin. He attended average classes and came home to an average, rented "apartment" off-campus. He came from an average family, for the most part: a single mother who worked her ass off because his father was more of the love-'em-and-leave-'em-and-then-show-up-unwanted-12-years-later type.

Which is why, when he came home from school after a grueling but _amazingly _average day, Adam expected nothing out of the ordinary awaiting him at home.

He was wrong.

He didn't know that. Not at the time. What he did know was that he had a shit-ton of chemistry homework he was not looking forward to, an online quiz in biology due at ten p.m. that night that he'd studied for but still dreaded doing, and his gas light had been on for who knows how long which meant he had roughly two miles left before his little Hyundai just said fuck it.

Unfortunately, he had already passed the last gas station on his way home when he'd noticed the annoying light and said fuck it _himself. _The car could wait until the morning. He wanted to go home. Well, to his house. The place didn't quite feel like home. Start of the semester and he hadn't unpacked most of his shit, just left it boxed in the second bedroom he was never going to use.

He'd thought about turning it into a guest bedroom for his mother for when she came to visit, but, well, she worked all the time. Still. And he couldn't really expect her to drop her responsibilities to just check out his new crib. He didn't want her to. No, it'd be better for him to go visit her whenever he got the chance. It'd be easier on both of them.

When he finally pulled into his driveway, Adam spared hardly a glance at the small, two-story, old-as-hell, dull-grey house in front of him. He was more focused on putting the vehicle in park, turning it off, reaching behind him to grab his satchel full of heavy ass books, and climbing out of his car. It wouldn't seem like these actions would require much focus, but, apparently, they did. Or Adam would have noticed something was not quite right with his house.

He did not notice that something-not-quite-right the entire time it took him to walk the short distance from the Hyundai to the front door. Probably because he was fiddling with his keys. He did not notice the something-not-quite-right after he unlocked his door, walked into his house, walked through the small living room, only to place his satchel on the kitchen table that had come with the place. He did not notice it when he opened the refrigerator door, grabbed a bottle of Sprite, and started downing the liquid like he was a man dying of thirst.

No, it wasn't until he was staring at the dirty plate sitting in the sink that was staring accusingly at him while he contemplated if he should actually wash it before the food melded with the ceramic that he _finally_ noticed something was not quite right. His hint was the thumping. The sound of thumping was coming from upstairs.

Adam's first instinct had been to freeze. His second instinct, which had happened at almost the same time as his first, had been to panic. The end result was that the young man stared like a deer in headlights at his kitchen sink while his brain provided him with a strobe light effect of images of everything that he had seen in a horror movie…ever.

Adam was a man. And, as a man, he had to be truthful with himself. He had to admit that he wanted nothing more than to run, shrieking like a young girl, from his own damn house. Unfortunately, he was a man. Which meant… He didn't really know what it meant. He was only nineteen-damn-years-old. He just got into college. How does one behave like a functioning adult other than paying the bills on time?

He took a deep breath, slowly placed his Sprite on the kitchen counter, and steeled his nerves. The thumping sounded again. Adam steeled his nerves further. Right. Okay. He psyched himself up. Other than being a burglar or a killer, what else could be upstairs in his house?

He had no fucking clue.

None of the people he knew at college had a key to his "apartment." The landlady that had given him permission to reside in the old house, for roughly the same amount of money a single apartment would have cost him on campus, _did_ have a key. However, she couldn't possibly be upstairs. The poor old woman was in the hospital from a fall. His mother didn't have a key. His father and brothers sure as hell didn't have keys or even knew where he'd moved to. The chances of him liking whatever he found upstairs were slim to none.

Another thump followed by the muffled sound of a dying animal. That sound, believe it or not, gave Adam some semblance of hope. Animals. Animals he could deal with. Perhaps something had snuck its way in threw the quasi-attic and crawled its way out? The house was old. Even though the landlady, Mrs. Edwards, had done a fair amount of work on it before putting it on the market, touch-ups couldn't hide the age of the wood on the inside. Wasn't strange for some type of rodent to chew threw that stuff. Or, like, a raccoon.

With a newfound sense of courage, Adam decided to investigate the noise. But, first, to arm himself. His weapon of choice? The broom. He had thought of a knife but, well, he wanted a bit of distance between him and whatever the hell was upstairs. Play it smart, not necessarily lethal. Besides, he'd played baseball when he was younger. He knew how to swing away.

Adam walked around the kitchen table, grasped his blue, plastic broom that was sitting in the corner, and exited his kitchen with a glare. His knees may be trying to knock together, but he couldn't let his enemy know that. They had to be as afraid of him as he was of them. He walked back through the living room and up the stairs, almost stumbling when he head another pitiful whine.

Whatever was in his house sounded less and less like a raccoon the further he approached the bedrooms upstairs. That was not comforting in the least. All right. Well. He'd already made it to the top step, may as well keep going anyway, right?

As his ears led him towards the "guest" bedroom, Adam's grip on his weapon tightened. He briefly wondered how sturdy a cheap ass broom from Family Dollar was. Then, he briefly wondered how he was going to open the door.

Naturally, he was going to have to use his hands. But, that raised the problem of letting go of the sturdy grip he had on the broom. Which meant that, should whatever in the bedroom decide to attack him, he would be making himself vulnerable. It looked like everything would come down to just how fast Adam could move.

_Let go of the broom with right hand. Grab the door knob. Creak open the door slowly. Peak into the crack. Hop back as fast as possible in a fighting stance. _Hop back as fast as possible in a fighting stance. _Hop-. Come on, legs, get with the program. What are you doing?_

Turns out, Adam's legs were stuck to the floor and for good reason. What he found awaiting him in his "guest" bedroom sure as hell wasn't a raccoon. Or a burglar. Or Jason Voorhees.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at. He _knew _what he was looking at but he didn't _want _to know what he was looking at. Because to admit to himself that there was an angel-with wings-sprawled out on his floor amidst a sea of boxes was to admit that angels were a _thing. _And that one was in his house. And it had knocked a hole in his roof, which had knocked a few support beams down, and-.

Adam stumbled not-so-graciously away from the bedroom door, that was still slowly opening because the house had settled, walked back towards the stairs, and just sort of collapsed onto the floor in shock. The broom lay, forgotten, beside him as he tried not to have an existential crisis.

An angel…was in his house. No. No, an angel could not be in his house because, for one thing, they weren't real. For another, he was just an average nineteen-year-old college student with an average life and there was absolutely nothing fucking average about messengers of God dropping through his fucking roof. No. This thing, this _angel_, had to go. His name may be Adam, but he wasn't about to start biting any apples and ushering a second Fall of Man. Fuck that.

Just as Adam was reaching for the broom, confident that he was going to shoo this creature out of his house like he would a bird, the angel let out a pitiful cry. That sort of cry that pulls at heartstrings and makes people wonder what's wrong. And, once again, Adam's curiosity got the better of him. Despite his better judgment, he turned his head to look through the open doorway and let his eyes fall to the crumpled angel.

The longer he looked, the more he took in, the harder his heart began to beat in his chest. Because, Adam realized, the angel was injured. Heavily injured. Its white wings looked bent, broken. Blood had splattered the askew feathers. It leaked from open wounds. A small puddle had formed on the floor, from what Adam could see between a broken beam and some boxes.

Adam moved before he even knew what he was doing.

"Hey!" He shouted, stumbling in his haste to get off the floor. "Hey!"

The sound of his voice must have spooked the angel. It jerked violently, jarring its injuries and causing it to cry out again.

"No, no," Adam told it, hopping over some boxes. He wound up falling on his knees beside the…young male? "Don't do that. Ssh. Don't-don't move. You're fine. You're gonna be fine. Just don't move."

Adam was lying out of his ass and he knew it. Now that he could actually _see _what he was dealing with, he knew he was out of his league. And not because his 'patient' was an angel. A very odd looking angel that appeared to be around his age with blond hair that was wearing a red-and-white Wiener Hut uniform. No, 'out of his league' meant the sheer amount of blood and injuries he was going to have to deal with.

The angel's wings weren't the only things covered in the precious bodily fluid. The red liquid was caked all in the young man's hair, thanks to the halo around his head. Not the gold, glowy sort of halo, but the medical device. Only, and Adam was only partly sure about this, that was definitely not how those were meant to be used. The blood appeared to be all over the front of his once pristine uniform, having oozed out of lacerations and stab wounds all over his torso. They were the reason for the mess on the floor. How long had the guy been lying here?

The angel was shivering, panting, his blue eyes unfocused. Could angels go into shock? Hell if Adam knew. But he wasn't taking any chances.

"Fuck," Adam swore under his breath. "Okay. Um. Shit. Uh. We're gonna have to. Um. Move you. Somehow. Get you on a bed or something. Hey. Hey! Can you see me?"

Adam waved his hand near the other's face. The angel responded with a jerk, but his eyes couldn't really follow the movement. That wasn't good.

Biting his bottom lip, Adam thought. Right, what did he have to do _exactly? _He knew he had to get the angel to his bedroom so he could fix him up properly, make him comfortable. But, the issue was how to get him there. His wings were broken in several places, from what Adam could tell, and they were lain out over so many boxes-uneven planes that could catch the delicate looking appendages. Any sort of movement to those wings would cause extreme pain. Adam _knew _that. But…he didn't have any other choice really, did he? He was just going to have to move extra slow when he pulled the angel up. If the guy would let him pull him up, anyway.

"Okay, look. I know you can hear me. I don't know if you can understand me, but I know you can hear me. So, I'm going to say this anyway. I'm going to have to pick you up, slowly, so I can lay you down somewhere else. Somewhere _flat_ so that I can…help you. Or try to, anyway." Adam sighed. "Please, just… Don't freak out on me."

With a deep breath, Adam braced himself and touched the angel on the shoulder. The angel jerked once and whimpered. Adam froze. After a long second of nothing happening, he felt it was okay to keep going. He got on his hands and knees in front of the other man, gently placed his hands under the angel's armpits, and ever so slowly started to pull him up and towards him.

And _that's _when the angel decided to struggle.

It started with the wings. Broken though they were, the angel tried to use them anyway. For some damn reason. And, by doing so, he caused himself pain. Which made him tense up. Then, Adam, in all his infinite wisdom, tried to pull the angel up faster to get the wings off of the boxes and avoid further injury. Yet, that just made the angel panic…and struggle more…nudging one of his broken wings into a precariously angled box. Said box tipped over. Adam watched in horror, unable to do anything but wheeze, as it fell onto the wing.

The angel did the most reasonable thing given the circumstances. He screamed. Only, it wasn't a run-o'-the-mill scream. It was a piercing whine like a dog whistle. The sound nearly knocked Adam to his knees. The whole room felt like it was spinning around him. He closed his eyes, as if that would make it stop. Faintly, he heard the sound of glass shattering.

Then, the angel went limp. The sound ceased. Adam realized that, somehow, he'd kept a hold of him. Smushed him against his chest in a tight grip to keep from dropping him. Adam was the one shaking now. For a split second, he thought he'd killed the angel. But, then, he felt the other's chest move against his. The angel was still breathing. His heart was fluttering away against Adam's.

"Right," Adam said shakily.

He wasn't surprised that he could barely hear himself over the ringing in his ears. He _was_ surprised to find that he could hear anything at all. Oh, and that the two windows in the room had been shattered. Perfect. That was going to come out of his gas money.

With the angel unconscious, it'd be easier to move him, at least. Adam was still going to have to be careful with him so as not to injure him more than he already had. But, there wouldn't be as much of a struggle. Small miracles. He was going to have to move the box off the angel's wing, however.

With a put-upon sigh, Adam gently lowered the angel back to the floor. He removed the box from the broken wing, flinching when he heard shards of glass tinkling against each other. He was pretty sure that whatever was in there hadn't been broken by the fall.

Adam didn't stop there. He moved every box towards the walls. He hurried, because the angel seriously needed to be attended to, but he had to do it. He had to make sure there would be no more mishaps. That his foot wouldn't trip over something and both he and the angel would go tumbling. If he threw a few boxes a bit too hard in his haste, well… Oops.

Done with that, Adam awkwardly picked up the angel as he had before, holding him chest-to-chest with his arms wrapped around the other's middle. Not the best way to carry someone, but he was carrying someone with _wings_. Wings he had to watch out for. This sort of drag-carry hold was the only way Adam could think to do both efficiently.

He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of his situation. He was dragging a half-dead angel across his upstairs hallway to his own bedroom to treat him. As if he were some sort of mythological creature doctor. Only, he wasn't even a doctor for _humans_, yet, so...he didn't really feel like laughing. Because what good was he going to be to an angel?

Sure, he'd been raised by a nurse and had watched enough medical shows to last him a life time. On a whole, he knew more than the average person. He knew he was going to have to clean wounds with antiseptics, bandage them, grab pain reliever, and possibly try to force feed the guy some fluids. He was going to have to remove the halo from around his head. He was going to have to bandage wings.

Too bad Adam had no idea how to use a halo. Too bad he had no idea how to bandage a bird's wings. Too bad the only form of pain reliever he had in his house was Extra Strength Tylenol for when he'd get headaches from squinting too hard while studying.

Adam's lamenting of his professional skills were put on the backburner as he reached his bedroom. The only furniture in the room so far was his bed, a nightstand, a lamp, and a dresser and chest-o'-drawers that came with the house. Most of his furniture was, thankfully, out of the way. All he had to do was shuffle the angel through the doorframe, past the edge of the dresser, just a bit to the left, and…

"Fuck," he breathed.

His room wasn't small. It wasn't. It was big enough to fit a queen-sized bed, the furniture, and leave some room to spare. It didn't have a closet, but, hey! For what he was paying Mrs. Edwards to rent the place? His room was amazingly big.

It just wasn't big enough for a fifteen-ish-foot wingspan. Not without moving something around.

"Um," Adam said to himself, looking around his room.

What could he move? Well, the obvious offenders were his bed and his dresser. His bed, however, was about as far as it was going to go against the wall without squishing the nightstand. So, the only _real_ option for moveable furniture was the dresser near the door. It was heavy, but, at least Adam hadn't put much of anything in there. That was a plus.

However, to move the dresser so that he could place the angel down and spread his wings out diagonally across the floor…Adam would have to put the angel down. Without enough room. Which led to the possibility of injuring the wings _again_.

"I really didn't think this through, did I?" he asked no one in particular.

After a minute of awkwardly standing in his own bedroom, arms growing tired with the dead weight, Adam eventually decided to place the angel against his bed. In a sort of weird crouching position that had the angel's face a little too smushed into the mattress, his wings limply trailing back towards the door. Adam cringed at the sight, but it would have to do.

He carefully stepped over the feathered appendages, walked to the side of the dresser farthest from the door, grabbed under the lip, and got ready to pull.

Then someone knocked on his front door.

Adam, for a second, thought of just ignoring his visitor. He had more important things to attend to. Then he realized that who was at his front door was most likely a neighbor. After all, the angel's scream had been pretty loud and shattered windows. Someone had to have heard that. Or, maybe it was the giant hole in his roof that drew the attention? Whatever the case, it would probably be a good idea to go downstairs and tell whomever was at his door that all was well even if it wasn't.

He ran out of his room, took the stairs by twos, and stopped just shy of the door to compose himself. Plastering a big, completely false, grin on his face, Adam cracked open the door just enough to stick his head out of it. The grin almost faltered when he realized it was his neighbor to the left. Hell if he knew her name. She had that motherly look about her, though. Something you'd expect a soccer mom from a suburban area to look like. Her features were pulled down in a heavily concerned frown.

"Hi," Adam greeted in a tone of voice that clearly gave away that he wished she'd leave.

"Hello," she replied in a semi-judgmental voice. "Uh. I live next door? I heard…something. Earlier. I think it was your windows shattering. Is…everything okay in there?"

"Oh, yes, yes," Adam lied. "I was just. Uh. I kinda spilled my Sprite on this old stereo I had. And…it let out this frequency that just shattered my windows. Probably because they're so old, y'know? Just couldn't hold up to the vibrations, I guess!"

"You have a hole in your roof."

"Right. No. Yeah. The satellite guy. He came today to mount the dish on the roof. Turns out there was a bit of a decayed spot. It fell right through. I've called Mrs. Edwards about it. She knows."

"Oh. Okay." The woman trailed off uncertainly.

Then her eyes trailed down from his face to what little of his shoulder was showing through the door. Her eyes widened.

"Is that blood?" She breathed.

"What?" Adam asked.

He looked down. Sure enough, his shirt was covered in splotches of blood. Why the hell he hadn't thought to change his shirt before he came down he had no idea. Adam managed to catch the screech before it made it to his throat. Instead, he looked her straight in the eyes and went for lie number three.

"This? No! Well, it is, but it's fake. I'm a pre-med student at UW-Madison. They sometimes have little _things_ where some of the students pretend to be patients and others have to figure out what's wrong with them. I was a patient. Car wreck!"

"Uh-huh… And… You're sure everything's all right?" His neighbor asked.

Adam could tell she was completely weirded out. He didn't blame her. He was right along with her on that one.

"Yes," Adam smiled. "Everything's fine. I've got some large trash bags I can use to cover up the windows and the hole. So… Thanks for asking, though! That was very kind of you. 'ppreciate it."

"Well, take care, then. I guess. And you're welcome!"

With a stiff nod, Adam dismissed his unwanted visitor, closed the door, and took a sigh of relief. If the cops showed up in a few minutes, he'd know his bluffs had failed. But, until then, he had an angel to take care of.

It didn't take him long to get the dresser pulled to the far wall, allowing him a few extra feet to work with. He even rotated the foot of his bed so that it lie diagonally across the floor. Positioning the angel wasn't as hard as he thought it'd be, either. He'd been extremely careful in straightening out the wing bones. One had poked through the skin on the angel's left wing, but it didn't look like it would be hard to set. Painful, but not difficult.

Adam couldn't focus on that yet, though. He had to work with what he knew how to do first. Well, he knew how to sterilize and bandage. So, he left the angel lying on his bedroom floor, retrieved his first aid kit from under the sink, and came back.

His trauma shears made quick work of…Alfie's?…shirt. Weird name. Adam encountered some difficulty when it came to cutting the shirt away from the wings, but he managed somehow.

He was relieved to see that the angel didn't actually have many wounds on his back. Probably stuff that happened when he crashed through Adam's roof. Nothing like the lacerations and stab wounds on his front. Certainly nothing that needed tending to.

The angel's injuries were worrying Adam. Not just because of their severity anymore, either. Their placement, the use of a halo, and the slight bruising along the angel's-_Alfie's_-wrists… If Adam didn't know any better, he'd swear some creepy ass torture-experimentation shit had gone down on the guy. Of course, Adam _didn't_ know any better, he didn't know anything, and so the possibility and its implications were left, plain as day, for his brain to pick and gnaw at. They were left to worry him about what could possibly do this to a messenger of God that, until half an hour or more ago, Adam didn't even believe existed.

He cleaned Alfie's wounds the best he could. Alcohol and an irrigation syringe could only get him so far. He would have stitched the deeper gashes together but he didn't have the thread or the know-how to do that. Bandaging went easily enough. Nothing some gauze pads and vet wrap couldn't take care of.

When Adam finished with that task, he moved onto the halo problem. First of all, that was a gross pun by whomever had screwed the metal device into Alfie's brain. Second of all, Adam was one-hundred percent certain that he had no idea how to remove it without injuring the angel. But, it had to come off. It wasn't like he could cart Alfie to a brain surgeon all, "Fix him." No, Adam was going to have to do this himself, despite his ignorance. Luckily, he was good at critical thinking. Righty-tighty, lefty-loosey and all that.

Adam quickly learned that removing a halo was in no way like unscrewing something from a wall. Though, in hindsight, that shoulda been a given. He also discovered that _this _halo was nothing like a normal one. It wasn't screwed into the skull. The device itself more of hovered on and around Alfie's head. What kept it from simply being knocked off or jarred around were the three pins skewered into the angel's forehead. That was just sick. The twisted, deranged sort of sick.

He slowly pulled the pins from Alfie's head. Adam could easily say that the feeling of metal sliding out of bone was one of the grossest things he'd ever felt and, for a second, he wondered why the hell he thought being a doctor was a good idea. Removing the left and right pins went without incident, but, when he went to remove the center pin, Alfie started to wake up. That was not a good thing.

It was very difficult to both hastily _and _carefully pull a long, thin piece of metal out of the angel's brain before he moved in such a way that would hurt him. But, amazingly, Adam pulled it off. He then reached to pull the halo off.

And Alfie's blue eyes flew open to stare at him.

And Adam nearly screamed.

The angel's right hand struck out at his left arm as Alfie yelped. Adam flinched at the contact. It'd felt like he'd been hit by a baseball bat. The quick movement must have jarred Alfie's wings because he hissed and arched off the floor a bit.

"Nope. No," Adam cautioned.

He tried pushing Alfie gently back down by his shoulders, but the angel was still weakly trying to fight him off. He was clawing at Adam and kicking, which was only serving to cause him more pain. But, Adam knew, Alfie was merely trying to fend off what he perceived was an attacker. Which…didn't mean anything good regarding how he wound up with his injuries in the first place.

Adam flailed with the angel in some sort of childish looking slap fight until, finally, he managed to get a firm grasp on Alfie's hands.

"Hey!" Adam shouted in the most commanding voice he could manage.

Alfie stilled, staring up at him with a look that was a cross between anger, fear, and pain. Adam had to hand it to the guy, even when looking like something the cat dragged in, he could pull off a glare worthy of respect.

"I'm not trying to hurt you," Adam stressed, making sure to speak clearly. "You fell through my roof."

The angel's features twitched, his glare giving way to a look of confusion. Alfie looked around Adam's room. He'd almost started hyperventilating when he'd first seen Adam. A combination of panic and pain, most likely. But, the more he took in of his surroundings, the more his breathing started to even out. That was a good sign.

"I don't know how you got there," Adam continued, "but I brought you to my room and, now, I'm trying to help you. Okay? I'm trying to remove that thing from your head. Is that all right, Alfie?"

Alfie frowned, his eyes jerkily focusing back on Adam.

"'man-'mandriel." The angel mumbled.

"What?"

Alfie shook his head like he knew he'd made no sense just then.

"Sa-saman…"

"Sa…" Adam parroted awkwardly. "Samandriel? I don't. I don't know what that means."

"_Name,_" the angel ground out, his head lolling back over to the side.

"Oh! Oh. Your name is Samandriel. …Your shirt said, 'Alfie.'"

The response he received was an aggravated whine and a grimace. Adam was confused as to why _Samandriel_ had the wrong nametag on his shirt, but, he didn't particularly _care _either. Probably had something to do with the oddity that was the angel's true name. Couldn't really go around Wiener Hut all, "Hi, my name is Samandriel! How my I take your order?" and not expect a few questions.

Pushing that topic to the back of his mind, Adam let go of one of Samandriel's hands and moved to take the halo off. The angel flinched a little, but he remained still, so, Adam finished his task. He tossed the contraption over towards his chest-o'-drawers.

"There," he said. "I'm going to have to fix your wings. Somehow… Then we'll be done! I think."

"Heal," Samandriel mumbled.

The angel seemed to be drifting off again as he stared into the distance near Adam's bed.

"What?"

"'ll heal… Can heal."

Adam nodded slowly, frowning in concern. "I hate to tell you this, buddy, but you're not healing. Like, if you're waiting for some holy magic stuff to just _vwoop_ and fix you? …It's not working."

Samandriel growled petulantly and, then, his hand went limp in Adam's. He was out. Again. Right. With a sigh, Adam gently placed the angel's hand on the floor beside him. He started gathering his things together and thought.

Well, he had nearly a whole roll of vet wrap left and some bed sheets shoved in a box somewhere. He could use those for making some wing slings. He'd have to research on how to do that, though. Google would probably be his best resource for that one. He didn't really have time to go running back to the campus library for better reading material.

He still had to patch up the giant hole in his "guest" bedroom ceiling and the two busted windows. That was going to be fun. At least it hadn't start raining yet. _Yet_.

He could find something to cover Samandriel up with so that the angel wouldn't get cold. If angels got cold. He could get him a pillow.

Adam was going to have to clean the blood off his stuff before it set too long and stained. 'd be a bit awkward for Mrs. Edwards to find a giant dark splotch in the carpet and floorboards later.

Oh. And he still had biology and chemistry to do. Because his average, college-student life didn't disappear simply because a messenger of God crashed into his house.

It was going to be a long evening.


	2. Getting To Know You

**A/N: I just wanted to say that one of my favorite things about writing fan fiction is all the interesting handles you guys have when you review and follow. Round 2 came a bit early because I'm on a roll. You are welcome.**

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Adam was losing it. He was losing it because he wasn't losing it.

Yesterday, he'd cleaned up after an angel had crashed into his guest bedroom. He'd just scrubbed away blood like he did it for a living. Picked up insulation and wood, and then hammered and taped some trash bags onto his ceiling with a short prayer that it wouldn't leak. He'd torn down the bent blinds and old curtains that had hung behind now-shattered windows. Picked up glass and discarded it, and then vacuumed up the rest with a little hand vacuum cleaner he'd bought to clean out his car.

He'd wrangled giant wings and splinted them the best he could. He hadn't had rods or pins to stabilize the broken bones, but he'd had a lot of extra wood and a bucket load of tape. A combination of vet wrap and a ripped up sheet made a good enough sling, as far as he was concerned.

Samandriel had been left, lying on his side, to snooze away on Adam's floor. Adam'd covered him with a hideously-designed comforter and then simply walked away, shutting the door behind him.

He'd pulled his bloody shirt off, thrown it in some warm water and detergent in the bathtub, and then fixed himself a TV dinner. He had taken his biology quiz and passed. He'd watched some TV. When he turned in for the night, he'd made sure to check on Samandriel before getting into bed.

The angel turned out to be fine. Adam had been surprised to see that the wounds on his forehead had already closed up. The gash on his cheek was nearly nonexistent. He figured Samandriel hadn't been wrong, after all, when he'd said he would heal.

Sleeping with an angel in the room had been remarkably uneventful. So uneventful that Adam didn't even remember that one was in his room until he opened his eyes, saw him, and thought, "Oh, yeah. That thing."

Adam had gotten up, assured himself that Samandriel was still breathing, and started his day like it was any other day. Because it was, really. He still went to college. He still turned in his homework. He still took notes. He greeted some of his new acquaintances. The average stuff. Just because there was an angel in his bedroom did not mean that the world stopped for Adam Milligan.

Which is why, now, as Adam stared at the grumbling, wiggling form that was Samandriel, he came to the conclusion that he was a little too realistic to call himself average ever again.

The angel didn't appear to be a morning person. Or a three-thirty-in-the-afternoon person, if he were to be technical. Samandriel seemed quite content to just bury himself further in the warm comforter and doze. Adam's stare increased in intensity the longer he had to be left waiting in the doorway. After about five minutes, Adam couldn't take it any longer.

"You gonna get up?" He questioned.

Samandriel jerked awake as if he'd been caught, red-handed, doing something he wasn't supposed to. He tried to rollover onto his back, yelped when his wings told him that way was a no-go, and then he rolled onto his hands and knees. Adam cringed a little at the face Samandriel made as the comforter slipped off his messed up feathers. Soon, the angel stood facing him, his head constantly moving so he could take in all of his surroundings. Maybe he, too, had forgotten about yesterday.

"Hi," Adam began. "Name's Adam. I'm the guy whose roof you fell through and who-" he motioned at Samandriel's bandages with his hand, "-fixed you up. Just wondering: How long will you be staying? My landlady? She's under the assumption only one person is living here."

The angel's face portrayed his confusion, "Where am I?"

"You want planet, country, or street address?"

Samandriel tilted his head at him in frank annoyance.

"Windom Way," Adam supplied. "Madison, Wisconsin."

Samandriel's gaze fell to the floor, his lips pulled down into a frown.

"I don't understand. I was trying to get back to Heaven. I shouldn't have…"

"No offense, dude. But your wings are shit."

The look of indignation he received at his off-handed comment made Adam put his hands up in surrender.

"I mean," he explained, "there's no way they're taking you anywhere, let alone to the Pearly Gates. Wherever the hell those are."

Adam could tell the angel was about to wash his hands of him. Probably for his insolence or something righteous-y like that that Adam didn't really understand. But, just as easily as he'd gotten angry, Samandriel slipped right back into confused. With a side of thoughtful.

"My wings weren't injured before I tried to return to Heaven. That must've happened when I landed here. No, something must have prevented me from flying normally."

Adam pursed his lips, "The…halo around your head? Y'know, with all the pins poking into your brain? I mean, I'm no neurologist, but I'm pretty sure that would fuck up anybody's motor skills."

"Oh," Samandriel replied.

The angel brought his hands up to feel around his head. He seemed pleased, but no less confused, when he didn't find the metal contraption that had once adorned it. His frown then deepened. He patted weakly at the bandaging that covered his torso, pulling at places like a kid trying to see a cut under a Band-Aid. He looked over his shoulders to inspect his wings. Thankfully, he didn't try testing them.

Samandriel looked back at Adam, "I'd like to thank you for tending to me, but you really didn't have to. I'll-"

"Heal? Yeah. You'll have to forgive me for my haste in trying to speed up the process." Adam mumbled. "When are you leaving?"

The angel stood up straighter, "When I can fly again. Look, I don't mean to intrude, _Adam_. I don't want to inconvenience you-"

"Oh, no, you did _that _when you broke my weekly budget."

Adam almost smiled when Samandriel's jaw clenched in frustration. He knew he was being an ass. He couldn't help it. There was just something about this dude that made him want to poke fun. Plus, it was an easy way for him to release some of his own frustration at having to face the divine.

"You're very incorrigible, do you know that?" Samandriel criticized.

"Is that any way to talk to your host?"

The angel looked stunned. "I didn't mean-"

Samandriel paused when he noticed Adam had failed to hold back his grin anymore. The indignant pout returned on the other's face. This was going to be so much fun. It was a little relieving to know that his new roommate, though a messenger of God, was actually just as human as he was.

"You're adorable," Adam teased. "Grab your shit off the floor and come on. We're fixing up the extra bedroom."

Adam turned to walk across the hall.

"Uh," he heard Samandriel question. "Why-why do we need to do that?"

"Because!" He called back. "You are not sleeping in my room anymore. Now that I know you're not going to keel over in the middle of the night, you're getting your own room. Happy Birthday!"

When Adam turned back around, he caught the amusing image of an angel trying to roll up a thick comforter, only to wind up with both of his arms stuck in the fabric. Samandriel frowned down at his trapped arms, but he then walked over to Adam, anyway.

"It's not my birthday," Samandriel stated, staring in anticipation at Adam.

He reached out to help the angel with his predicament.

"It's an expression. Humans give gifts on birthdays, usually. At least, they do in America."

"Oh," Samandriel replied, freeing himself from his comforter. "So… You're giving me this room as a gift. Why?"

Adam stared blankly at the angel, just then noticing Samandriel was shorter than him. He quickly folded the comforter the proper way and chucked it towards the floor.

"Because," he stressed. "There's this thing we like to call privacy. Not sure how keen God is on it, what with the omnipotence, but, for us lowly humans, it's kinda a big deal. We like having it. Let's us dress without unwanted eyes staring at our bodies."

It took a second, but then Samandriel's eyes widened. He nodded quickly in understanding as he cast his gaze to the floor. He looked like he'd been told the intricate details of childbirth or something. It was kind of amusing.

"I keep forgetting you humans have different mindsets when it comes to things like that," Samandriel murmured.

"You worked at Wiener Hut," Adam reminded.

He turned to start moving some boxes towards the far side of the room. His plan was to place some sort of makeshift pad near the wall closest to the door and shove everything else in the way towards the area Samandriel had fallen in at. Just…had to make sure it was far enough away from the hole so as not to be rained on if the garbage bags leaked.

"They didn't teach you how to socialize when going into the customer service industry?"

"Socializing is easy. All it is is conversing with people and making sure they feel listened to, validated, comforted. Remembering cultural customs is more difficult. Nudity isn't seen as sinful in some parts of the world as it is in others. …It's not sinful, by the way."

Adam slowly turned from his task to face the angel and asked, "Why'd you feel the need to add that last part in?"

Samandriel was silent a moment before admitting, "I don't want to sleep in a room with a hole in it. I figured if you thought nudity wasn't a sin you'd let me stay in yours."

"No," was all Adam said before pulling a stack of three, big boxes across the floor. "Also: You're not helping."

"It's not safe," Samandriel grouched. "Things can get in. And, _no_, not 'like bugs or other angels.' I mean dangerous things. _Evil_ things."

"Did you just read my mind?"

"No," the angel said proudly as he folded his arms. "You're just predictable."

Samandriel was stalling. Adam was eighty percent positive that the guy was stalling. Finding anything and everything to complain about so that he wouldn't have to do any of the actual work. Which, adorable or not, was not a way to get on Adam's good side.

"Look. You're not staying in my room. You are staying in this room. I don't care what dangerous, evil things are out there. I know how to use a damn baseball bat. I can defend myself. You're an angel, I'm pretty sure you can defend yourself. Now, stop talking and get to work."

Samandriel's look turned challenging. Adam sighed. He had a very good idea what the angel was going to bring up, and he already knew he'd lost his argument when he realized just how he'd shoved his foot in his mouth. He let go of the boxes and silently admitted defeat. The guest bedroom would have to wait until he fixed the roof. Which meant he was back to square one. Yippee.

"Fine," Adam said. "You win. I won't make you sleep in the holey room. If you're afraid that the boogeyman is going to follow your example and bust its way in, then you are more than welcome to crash on my bedroom floor for a week. But, after that? I'm fixing this roof and you're getting your own bed."

The smile Samandriel gave him in return was entirely too cheeky. Like everything had gone according to his plan. Seemed like culturally inept angels _weren't_ socially inept, after all. Not if they knew how to pull a person's strings so efficiently. Samandriel'd probably raked in the sales at the Wiener Hut with his disarming attitude and cunning ways. The tables had turned. Adam theorized that he wouldn't be the only one enjoying their forced time together.

"I can still help you move the boxes, if you'd like," Samandriel stated.

"No," Adam shook his head, heading for the door. "No, you done blew that idea outta the water. No sense in fixing up a room if you're not going to be using it."

The angel frowned a little as Adam passed him, "Well, if you're going to make me use it _later_, then it would make sense-"

"Not doing it," he announced. "Not wasting my time when I could be doing something else productive like homework and studying. Or cooking. Do you eat?"

Adam had turned from where he stood at the top of the stairs to face Samandriel. Samandriel had an inquisitive look on his face as he stared back into the guest bedroom. A sort of innocent curiosity Adam would expect from a stranger investigating someone's house. He waited until the other finally turned to look at him.

"No."

"You sleep but you don't eat," Adam mused, walking down the stairs.

"I sleep because I'm injured," he heard Samandriel say behind him.

"You don't eat but you worked at a fast food joint."

"That was an assignment."

"God told you to work at Wiener Hut? Why? To bless the franks?"

Adam hadn't expected to be spun around by his shoulder and glared at heatedly at the foot of his stairs. In hindsight, he should have. Insulting one's Father typically did not end well, unless that person had daddy issues. But, not everyone was him.

"You stand in the presence of an angel of the Lord and you dare insult Him?" Samandriel demanded.

Okay, well, this was a problem. Adam hadn't really been a believer in all that "God" crap. He'd been influenced by it, naturally. Growing up in an area around a bunch of Christians kinda meant he had no other option but to know that Hell was for sinners and Heaven was for saints. That God was this dude in a robe with a beard that looked and acted a bit too much like Santa. Oh, and he was named after the First Man, who took a bite out of an apple and realized he needed some clothes.

But that was about as far as Adam went on the whole religion thing. His mother had never taken him to church on Sundays, probably because she either had to work. or rest, or spend time with him. His friends' parents had never carted him off with them. He'd never gone to Vacation Bible School.

So, letting slip some off-handed comments about God wasn't that unnatural for Adam. He'd never once gotten in trouble for it. Except for now. Because there was an angel that half resembled a mummy staring so intently at him that Adam figured he would burst into flames any second now. Adam was going to have to not only learn not to do that ever again, but also apologize. Which was going to be a bit uncomfortable for him because Adam still didn't believe in God.

He held his hands up to try and show he meant no harm.

"I'm sorry. I'm not really what you'd call a devout believer. I didn't mean to offend." He paused before adding, "And I'm not going to make any promises that I won't stick my foot in my mouth again. So, if I do, please, just…don't smite me."

Samandriel stared at him for a long minute before he removed his hand from Adam's shoulder. His jaw was still tense, however, so Adam knew to tread lightly. He valued his head.

"You're handling your situation very well for someone who doesn't believe in the Divine."

Adam shrugged, "I'm a seeing-is-believing sort of guy."

Legs a little shaky and heart rate a tad above normal, he pushed himself away from the wall and walked through the living room towards the kitchen. He'd kinda lost his appetite a little, but he hadn't eaten anything decent for hours.

"Anyway, why were you assigned to work at Wiener Hut, if you don't mind my asking? I mean, I thought angels helped people out. Or something."

Samandriel followed him, replying, "I was helping someone. A worker who needed a little inspiration to go towards her true destiny."

"Which is?"

"Classified, considering that it pertains to future events."

Adam looked over at the angel, his hand stopping as it reached the freezer door. Samandriel looked serious enough, but that damned cheeky smile of his was trying to peek through. Adam rolled his eyes and went back to his task. He pulled another TV dinner from the fridge-tonight's was chicken fingers with a brownie-and read the instructions on the back.

"So…what? Angels just make sure we follow our path? And here I was thinking I had a choice."

"Humans do have a choice. Even with freedom, there are right and wrong decisions. Angels, in special cases, can be used to influence a person towards the right one. For example, as an Angel of Imagination, I can only inspire a person to follow their dreams. It's up to them to decide if they want to go through with them or not."

Adam set the oven to preheat.

"So, what you're saying is that: If that girl doesn't follow her dreams, she's made the wrong choice? That she's somehow royally fucked up the planet by not, I don't know, becoming a scientist and finding a cure for some strange disease?"

Samandriel was frowning when Adam turned to face him. Adam propped his elbows up on the stove.

"Not necessarily wrong, no. I think my wording was off. Let's use your example. Wouldn't it benefit the entire world if she _did_ become a scientist that found a cure to save millions?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"If all that's stopping her from saving all those people was the mindset that she would be forced to fix hot dogs for the rest of her life, would it _really_ hurt to nudge her to follow her dreams?"

Adam was silent before, finally, replying, "I didn't really think I'd be having a philosophical debate with an angel in my kitchen when I woke up this morning."

"I didn't really think I'd be waking up period, let alone to find I'd been treated by a human," Samandriel simpered.

"Right," Adam murmured before he put the TV dinner in the waiting oven.

Twenty-five minutes later, Adam was sitting in his living room, watching a re-run of _MythBusters_, and picking at his macaroni and cheese. Samandriel, because of his wings, couldn't really sit down on the couch. Not that he probably would have. The angel seemed to be keeping his distance. Adam wasn't entirely sure why, but he didn't feel like prying.

Instead, Adam had pulled one of the kitchen chairs into the living room and ordered Samandriel to sit. He didn't like having people, let alone angels, standing awkwardly around him. Samandriel had complied. He'd flinched a little when he sat, but he showed no other signs of pain. Though, he was sitting funnily. He had to lean forward so his wings wouldn't smush into the ground. He didn't seem to mind, though. Like that was a perfectly reasonable way to sit.

No, he seemed much more interested in inspecting Adam's house. He did it discretely, but Adam could see his eyes darting around. Taking in the curtains, the dinky old furniture, and the expanse of space towards the right of the house that Adam never used. It was really all part of the living room, but that was entirely too much room for Adam to live in. If Samandriel's curiosity got too strong for him and he followed his nose, he would find the downstairs bathroom. Adam never used that, either.

Samandriel eventually turned his attention back towards Adam, not even sparing a glance at the television. He took one look at the TV dinner Adam was eating and scrunched his nose up in distaste. Adam speared some macaroni on his fork and pointed it at the angel.

"Don't furl your nose at my food," he teased, taking a bite.

The angel kept frowning, "I will never understand why humans put such artificial food in their bodies."

"Mac-n-cheese isn't artificial," he replied with a mouthful.

"In theory, no. But the cheese sauce in that plate? It's disgusting."

Adam swallowed, "You don't even eat. Why are you complaining?"

"Because I know how detrimental to a human's health such foods are."

"You worked at a fast food restaurant!"

"For an assignment! Besides, you plan on becoming a doctor one day. How do you expect to heal the sick when you poison your own body with junk food?"

Adam's fork paused in its journey from a piece of brownie to his mouth. He slowly and steadily lowered the fork back to the dinner. He looked pointedly at Samandriel.

"How did you know that was what I wanted to become?" He demanded.

Samandriel's eyes widened. He turned his gaze towards the carpet for a moment as he fidgeted with his hands. His bottom lip was doing that quivering thing it'd done earlier when Adam had called him out for speaking rudely towards him. He faced Adam again.

"You dressed my wounds," he said evenly. "You did a very good job of it. I can make assumptions that you want to go into the medical field because you're good at it."

Adam's jaw clenched. That was complete bullshit and both of them knew it.

"You read my mind. You've been reading my mind, haven't you? It's not good enough to be able to see the future for you angels, you gotta go prying where you don't belong, too?"

Samandriel looked admonished.

"That's not." He looked away, frustrated, and explained, "I don't know who you are. You think you have it bad? I've was taken away from my charge, which means I didn't finish my assignment the correct way, which means I _failed_, and then-. And then I said some things I shouldn't have, and I fell into a human's house. With my wings exposed. Which humans aren't allowed to see without special permission and for a special cause, of which neither of us had."

Samandriel's gaze hardened.

"I have broken so many rules already and I am not willing to risk breaking more. I needed to know if I could trust you. So, yes, I scanned your mind. Briefly. To figure out if you were a threat. I didn't _read_ it. I just checked to make sure you weren't… That you weren't what I don't want coming after me."

Adam tore his gaze away from those eyes. They were boring into him again. He briefly wondered if that's when Samandriel read his mind. When he stared like that. But that wasn't what was bothering him anymore. No, what bothered him was that he was still being an inconsiderate dickbag when he wasn't trying to be. Yeah, sure, he liked teasing the guy. But he didn't like _actually_ hurting his feelings or being completely boneheaded about the other's predicament.

"You could have just asked me," he mumbled.

"People lie."

Adam couldn't help but smirk as he looked back at Samandriel.

"So did you."

Samandriel sighed and looked back at the floor.

"This is getting us nowhere."

Adam shrugged, "I don't know. I seem to have made progress. At least, when it comes to learning about what angels are capable of and what they do for a living. Still haven't found out what the hell roughed you up, though. Care to enlighten me?"

"That's… I can't say. I'm not allowed."

"Mmhmm," Adam hummed. He finally took that bite of brownie and then continued, "So, you can tell me what your assignment was and how angels' jobs work, but you can't tell me what could very well pop up in my own house to kill me?"

When Adam looked over at the angel, Samandriel's eyes had hardened. He was determined about something.

"They won't get in," he said dangerously. It spooked Adam a little. "There are ways to keep them out, and they _won't_ get in. All I need is some salt and something to draw with. Blood's the best, but anything that won't fade or easily rub off will do."

To say he was a little disturbed at the angel's words was an understatement. The way Samandriel talked made it sound like the divine was just as creepy and dark as the occult. Yeah, Adam was starting to get a little worried about his well-being. What the hell could be driven away by _salt_ and _blood_ for Chrissakes? He'd have to Google that later.

"Uh. Well, I don't have much salt. I didn't really think I'd need much. Microwavable meals being more my style an' all."

"Only the places of entry need to be warded. The hole in the roof's going to be the biggest challenge. I'm thinking of just cutting it off from the rest of the house with a line of salt."

"I am in way over my head, aren't I?"

Samandriel smiled a little and looked at him, "Maybe. But you're handling me pretty well. I'm sure you can handle anything that comes your way. Be that the supernatural or that homework you mentioned."

"Right. Homework. Yay."

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. Adam finished his dinner, remembered he still hadn't washed that dish in the sink when he saw it as he threw away his meal tray, and then he set about doing his English homework. Reading pages about how to write essays was only so fun. Especially when such things had been hounded into his head all throughout his middle school and high school careers. But, hey, college. Gotta cover the basics for the older folks returning after twenty-some-odd years of working dead-end jobs.

He tried to get Samandriel to help him. Angels had to know about languages, right? But the angel had only haughtily told him that he was an Angel of Imagination, not one of Cheating. Adam couldn't convey his point that simply, like, downloading the information straight into his brain wasn't technically cheating. Samandriel wouldn't have it. Instead, he set about nosing around the kitchen cabinets.

Which were mostly bare. Adam hadn't brought much from home and he hadn't needed to buy many plates from Wally World, either. After all, he was just one man. So, what Samandriel found interesting about them, he had no idea. The angel was probably searching for the salt. Which was under the kitchen sink, not along the top, but Adam wasn't going to tell Samandriel that. Because he was a bit of an asshole that took some sort of impish glee at watching a messenger of God not being able to find a common household item.

Samandriel did find it, eventually. He went about strategically placing the stuff behind doorframes and on windowsills. Points of entry, Adam remembered. If only that worked on other creepy things like criminals. Adam, however, simply went back to watching TV and let the angel have his fun. Or do his duty. Whatever he was doing. So long as he didn't ramble through Adam's underwear drawer, he didn't really give a damn.

When he remembered to Google what the hell he was trying to keep out of his house, it was already eight-o'-clock at night. Samandriel had turned in an hour earlier, saying something about how he needed a lot of sleep to heal faster. Adam'd asked him about the wounds on his torso, the angel had assured him that everything was fine, and that had been the end of that conversation.

Adam's search brought him a random jumble of results that branched from medical stuff to the actual occult-ish type things he was looking for. The first place he went to, naturally, was the article about iron in folklore on Wikipedia. Because it was Wikipedia: A College Student's Best Friend.

All he managed to glean from it was that blood-or iron-was thought to "repel ghosts, fairies, witches, and other malevolent supernatural creatures." Well, he highly doubted ghosts could fuck up an angel, he couldn't imagine Tinkerbell doing it, and witches could be promising if they weren't the modern versions. As for other malevolent supernatural creatures? Well, that could fucking be anything, now couldn't it? What good was that for a descriptor?

Further investigation led him to an article about Romans and their use of salt-among other things-to purify bodies and, perhaps, places of, again, evil spirits. He came across an article about salt in magic. He came across a lot of the same stuff, really. All saying that salt was for purifying but _what_ it purified was always under the blanketed term of "evil things." Evil and dead things. Which…really didn't help Adam out at all. Though, he was thinking of investing in an iron baseball bat drenched in salt to replace his Louisville Slugger hiding away under his bed.

At ten, Adam finally shut down his laptop and called it a night. He had morning classes again. They fell on every Tuesday and Thursday and they were the bane of his existence.

The last thing Adam needed was to be half-asleep in biology. A class that was actually _useful_ for his pre-med path.

He wasn't surprised that there was a line of salt in front of the guest bedroom. He wasn't surprised that there was a line of salt in front of _his_ bedroom. He wasn't surprised to find Samandriel lying on his stomach on the floor.

He was a little surprised to see the angel had ripped off all of his covers to use as a bunched up mattress and was snuggled down into the ugly comforter they'd left in the guest bedroom. Fortunately for Samandriel, Adam was far too interested in sleeping to rip the covers out from under him.

He, instead, pulled a heavy blanket out from the bottom drawer in his chest-o'-drawers and dealt with that. In the morning, or whenever Samandriel woke up with him in the house, he'd politely inform the angel that the bed was off-limits and that, to steal his host's bedding, was a tad rude. For now? He was going to sleep with a silent, but not religious, prayer that he wouldn't be eaten during the night.


	3. Awkward and Uncomfortable

**A/N: This wouldn't have taken nearly as long if I hadn't stopped to draw a baby seraph and watch GTA IV Let's Plays from Achievement Hunter. Sorry.**

The next morning, Adam awoke to the alarm tone on his cell. With an annoyed groan, he slapped his hand onto the infernal device that rested beside his pillow and pushed as many side buttons as he could. Anything to make the shrill trilling stop. Rooting his face into his mattress, he thought about simply not moving. Fuck college, fuck showers, fuck angels, fuck everybody. Sleep was more important. But, just like every other day, he forced himself to move and do what had to be done. Because that's what responsible adults did, which Adam was now.

The first order of business was to open his eyes. The second was to look at Samandriel. The third was to feel slight panic when he didn't spot the angel nesting in _his _bed sheets on the floor. The fourth was to calm down slightly because Samandriel couldn't have gone too far. The fifth was to panic again when he remembered the angel saying something about blood warding.

"No!" Adam exclaimed as he flung the blanket off him.

He hopped out of bed the fastest he had since he'd last believed in Santa Claus and rushed out of his room, mindful of the salt line by his door. The hallway was clean of the occult, but that wasn't the area that worried him the most.

Adam flung open the guest bedroom and, sure enough, he was greeted with the sight of creepy ass symbols painted near the busted windows and ceiling. He beat his head against the door weakly a few times, before he turned and stormed down the stairs. Samandriel was found in the kitchen, this time snooping in the refrigerator.

"Why?" Adam questioned. "Why did you do it?"

Samandriel turned his contemplative stare from the fridge to Adam.

"Do what?" He asked innocently.

"Blood. Blood all over my walls. Why did you do that? No, I know about the evil spirits and shit. But you could have just as easily used iron, right? Why blood? Why?"

Samandriel frowned, "Iron doesn't work against all malevolent creatures. Those blood sigils will protect the room against anything."

"Not against my deposit being kept it won't."

The deepening frown on Samandriel's face only proved to Adam that what they had here was a culturally inept slip-up once again. Which reminded him: He was also going to have a talk about the stealing of the bed sheets. But, that could wait. One thing at a time.

"This house doesn't belong to me, Samandriel. I am renting it from a nice old lady named Mrs. Edwards. I pay her every month to stay in this house. When I moved in, I paid her a deposit. A chunk of money that she holds onto until I leave her house. If I mess up the house and she has to repair it, she will take the money out of the deposit. Mrs. Edwards is not going to like having satanic-"

"It's not satanic."

"-magical shit all over her walls. Makes it a bit hard to sell to other renters. Which means…I just lost three-fifty."

"You could paint over it, couldn't you?"

"I'd have to get permission from Mrs. Edwards first and she'd ask why I wanted to paint _her_ house. Then, I _may_ just have to explain that an angel of the Lord thought it was a good idea to ruin the walls!"

"I'm sorry, Adam," Samandriel said, looking like the very definition of the word. "I'm only trying to help. You really do need those sigils for protection. I can probably remove them later when they're not needed."

Adam placed his head in his hands, digging at his eyes with the heels of his palm, and whined shrilly. It did kind of quell his rage that Samandriel might be able to clean up the very mess he'd made, but he was still frustrated because the angel had done it without permission. He'd just taken it upon himself to ruin the room. Granted, it had been to protect them, but still: Boundaries.

"I'm going to take a shower," Adam began, dropping his hands to pointedly look at Samandriel, who was still standing with the fridge door open. "I'm going to take a shower, get ready for school, go to school, and while I'm doing all o' that, _you,_ my fine, feathered friend, are going to put my bedding back where it goes. Then, you are going to occupy yourself in a way that does not fuck up my house. You can watch TV. You can learn to cook. You can clean. You can sleep. I don't care. Just, for the love of everything, _don't _do anything you think will cause me trouble. Are we clear?"

"I'm not a child," Samandriel pouted.

"Are we clear?"

"_Fine_," Samandriel growled.

Adam did what he said he was going to do. He went upstairs and showered, discovered he needed to do some laundry, got dressed, grabbed his shit, left Samandriel watching the Discovery Channel, and went to campus.

His day was spent worrying about what Samandriel was getting up to. He was mostly sure that the angel wouldn't do anything he wasn't supposed to. Like, pretty sure. Samandriel was very logical and he followed orders pretty well. Probably because he was an angel and they, well, took orders from God. Or something.

But, because he was very logical…he tended to do things very logically. Such as what he'd done that morning. He'd been focused on protection, and he'd done the most logical thing to do for protection. Sadly, he hadn't figured out that what was the most logical course of action wasn't necessarily the best for humans.

For instance, if someone were mopping around him and making him uncomfortable, the most logical thing for Adam to do would be to tell that person to stop. However, because of human social intricacies and such, what Adam _did _do was keep his mouth shut and angrily eat at his French fries while he wished the annoying ass janitor would go away.

The annoying ass janitor didn't go away, however. In fact, he just kept on a-whistlin' and a-moppin'. Adam's fuse grew ever shorter. When the janitor tried to clean under his chair while he was still sitting in it? _That_ was when he finally lost it.

"Dude!" He complained loudly, throwing his hands up like, "What the hell?"

The janitor looked stunned by his outburst. Yet, it wasn't genuine surprise, Adam could tell. It was that faux look of shock people get when they're mocking someone. The man went right back to mopping.

"He's alive!" The janitor joked. "And here I thought you were dead to the world."

"Uh, can you stop?" Adam asked angrily. "Like, I'm sure this is your job and all, but there's a time and place for everything."

"Right you are, kiddo!" The man chirped.

He shoved the mop back into its bucket, and, much to Adam's dismay and frustration, pulled the chair out beside Adam, and sat in it. Adam glared at the guy. He looked to be in his late thirties with golden brown hair and equally golden eyes. Golden eyes that were just little bit too close for comfort. Again: Late thirties. This man should know the meaning of "personal space."

"What the hell, man?" Adam demanded, leaning away a little.

The other slapped his hand once on Adam's book bag, "I've been meaning to ask you something. You're a young whipper-snapper, right? Sprightly youth doing that college thing? Y'see, I've been meaning to quit this janitorial career for a while. Doesn't really pay to clean up after a bunch of ingrates that think that, just because someone will sweep up their mess, they're entitled to mess things up."

"Dude-"

"I've had my sights set on fast food for awhile. At least, then, people will appreciate me working my ass off for them, right? So, what I wanted to ask is: Do you know anybody that works in fast food that I could get tips from? Y'know, see what I need to put on my resume and such?"

Adam, begrudgingly, kept eye contact with this stranger. Not because he particularly cared what the other had to say but because he felt that, if he looked away, he would be submitting to the janitor. So, he stared long and hard at the man, trying to convey with body language how much he wanted him gone from his presence and his life.

The message was not received.

"No," Adam answered slowly. "I don't know anyone who works in fast food."

"Really?" The janitor asked. "No one at all?"

"_No._ Now, would you kindly get the hell away from me?"

"Man," the guy whined, finally looking away. "And here I thought you would be the one to know a guy. Tsk."

"Uh. Adam?"

Adam looked away from the janitor to see Brittany. She attended his biology class. They'd struck up a lukewarm friendship that was mostly one-sided, all interaction coming from her. Her eyes were glancing between him and the janitor with concern and faint suspicion. Adam wasn't entirely sure why she was suspicious, but okay.

"Why are you eating with a janitor?" She questioned.

The man beside him frowned at her, "Because, unlike you, little lady, Adam here does not snuff his nose up at people who work their asses off and get no recognition for doing so."

Brittany's jaw dropped at the accusation, which almost had Adam snort a laugh, but before she could find a rebuttal, the janitor had hopped out of the chair he was in, grabbed his mop and bucket, and sauntered off like he didn't have a care in the world. Brittany glared daggers into the man's back until he was out of sight. She took the seat opposite of Adam, placing her full plate in front of her.

"What the hell was that all about?" She demanded.

Adam shrugged helplessly, "How the fuck should I know? He bothered the shit out of me, sat down, asked if I knew anyone that worked in fast food, and then you showed up."

"He's a creeper, innit?"

Once again, Adam shrugged helplessly. He didn't know what the deal with the janitor was. He was willing to let the whole encounter go. Chalk it up as one more strange occurrence that happened in his lifetime. Everyone was prone to having them. But, as he was chewing a fry, he remembered the major strange occurrence currently on-going in his life. The angel who, at one time, had worked at Wiener Hut.

Adam choked mid-swallow, then forced the fry lodged sideways in his throat down with some Sprite. Brittany stared at him in faint concern. He waved at her with his hand, his mind whirling a thousand miles a minute.

No way the janitor could have been referring to Samandriel. There was no way. No one knew the angel was staying with him. That he'd fallen through his roof. That Adam was hiding him away from things that go bump in the night. Right? Like, what were the odds? Slim to none. Because Samandriel had put up wards to keep out bad guys and stuff. Yes, that was it. The creepy man's questioning was just one of those ironic moments the universe was known for.

If Adam drug the salt shaker closer to him, well, that was his own damn business.

When he returned home that evening, Adam's first line of business was questioning Samandriel about the wards. Just what he'd done, _exactly_. He knew the angel wouldn't tell him what he was protecting them against, but he could at least figure out _how_ they were being protected. Maybe. Hopefully. Because that would be really nice to know.

Adam tossed his book bag onto the couch. Samandriel was found in the kitchen, again. Adam briefly wondered if he shouldn't put up some sort of child safety pen up to keep the angel out of there. He favorited it way too much. Adam was suspicious. But then, Adam noticed, firstly, that the dirty laundry was piled at Samandriel's feet as he read the tag of a shirt and, secondly, that the bandaging around his torso was gone.

"Uh." Adam said dumbly. He decided to handle the situation in the order he'd seen it. "What are you doing?"

"Washing clothes," Samandriel replied. As if that were a completely normal thing for an angel to do.

"Yeah, I have eyes. I was wondering _why_?"

"They were dirty. You told me to clean. I'm cleaning. Plus, I was bored. This takes my mind off things."

Adam nodded. He had said that. So, technically, he couldn't fault Samandriel for deciding to do the laundry he had thought about doing earlier. But, that did bring to mind another question. Adam narrowed his eyes.

"Did you read my mind again?" He asked skeptically.

"No, Adam," Samandriel, apparently pleased with whatever he'd read on the tag, dropped the shirt into the washer and then looked at him. "I haven't violated your mental privacy since yesterday. I don't plan to do it again, either. If you were thinking about laundering your clothes, then all I can say is that I beat you to it."

Adam's eyes narrowed further, "Did you touch my underwear?"

Samandriel snorted on that one. He shook his head, picked up another shirt from the pile, and began reading its tag. Adam noticed the way the angel's muscles moved on his bare chest. There was no stiffness in them. There wasn't a mark anywhere on the other's body, either, which was surprising and wasn't. From a medical standpoint, that was beyond impressive. From a supernatural one? Kinda to be expected.

"I thought about it," Samandriel mused. "But then I thought about the ridiculous rant you'd make at the perceived violation of your privacy, so I left them on the floor in your room."

Adam pouted a little. It wouldn't have been a _ridiculous_ rant at _perceived_ violation of privacy. It would have been a _valid_ rant at _actual _violation of privacy. But, for Samandriel, underwear was probably a dumb concept. As in: Why should it be something private when its just clothing? Not: Wearing underwear is stupid.

That was a thought Adam hadn't needed his brain supplying him with. He stared at the washer for a moment to recalibrate his mind and get it out of the gutter. When that was finished, he looked back at Samandriel.

"At least you're learning, I guess. Anyway, you've taken off your bandages."

"Yes," Samandriel smiled. "I've healed, so I didn't feel the need to keep them on anymore. Plus, they were a bit tight. For good reasons, I know, but still…" the corner of his lip pulled down in a frown, "annoying."

"Well," Adam drawled, "since you're healed…maybe you can take the writing off my walls?"

Samandriel's frown deepened as he dropped the second shirt into the washer. Okay, so that was a no.

"Fix the windows and roof?"

The angel sighed. He grabbed a third shirt, making certain not to look over in Adam's direction. Great. Adam'd probably offended the guy. Again. He opened his mouth to change the topic, but Samandriel spoke first.

"My flesh may be healed but my Grace hasn't. That's why my wings are still mending. I can't do anything that will tax my Grace because that risks weakening me again. Which would cause me to be stuck here longer. Neither of us wants that."

Adam sighed, rubbing at his face, "Look. I know I keep bringing it up. I'm not trying to run you into an early grave. Really, I'm not. But… The longer that room stays fucked up, the easier it is for something to find you. I know you said those wards and the salt would keep the bad spirits, or whatever, out, but will they keep them from simply finding you? I don't know how this shit works."

Samandriel paused in his tag inspection to look pensively at the wall. He tilted his head slightly to the side as his gaze unfocused. Adam stood there awkwardly, in the doorway to his kitchen, wondering just what the angel was doing. Soon, Samandriel's eyes refocused. He dropped the shirt into the washer and then looked over at Adam.

"I can't sense anything in the area, so I don't think you have to worry about being found. However, the sigils that I used _do_ work more at preventing entry than masking the house from detection. If I'd done that, it would have made things suspicious."

"But," Adam protested, "what if something does show up and notices the giant hole in the roof? And the windows busted out? Won't that set off red flags?"

Samandriel smirked, which surprised Adam, and replied, "I thought you were capable of taking care of yourself? That you knew how to use a baseball bat?"

Adam's mouth worked as he tried to think of a comeback at the angel's sass. He failed in that endeavor. Samandriel was still staring at him, cheeky smile in place, proud at himself for having thrown Adam's own words back at him. Haha, stupid human. Adam huffed through his nose.

"You're not funny," he stated as he pointed at him.

* * *

Saturday brought with it free time. Which was, really, a double-edged sword for Adam. On the one hand, yay, no school. On the other: Samandriel. He'd thought it had taken adjusting coming home and seeing a dude with wings fooling around with stuff around the house. It was even stranger being stuck with him for an entire day. From sun up to sun down and then some. What the hell was there to do with an angel?

Talking was a thing. Obviously. They talked. Discussed the décor and how impressed Samandriel was with the tidiness and order, sans the dirty laundry, of course. Adam's snipping about the guest bedroom did not deter Samandriel's opinion at all. Probably because the angel had just as much shut it away from his mind as he'd quarantined it from the rest of the house.

They discussed Adam's eating habits. Samandriel wanted to bring _actual_ food into the place. He'd cook, if Adam didn't mind. He'd picked up on how to do that from inspiring some humans into being chefs and such. Plus, he knew how to read and follow instructions. So, any type of recipe was fair game. Adam was against it, of course. He knew how to cook, thanks. He didn't need an angel being his house servant.

Oh, but it's the least he could do. No, don't start that. But if only Adam would improve his diet. Fine, he'll go out and grab better grub next grocery run, but Samandriel was not cooking ever.

They debated the television shows Adam liked to watch. The intricacies of storytelling and acting. Why certain characters would do this but not that. Why anyone would be interested in that genre. When it got to Samandriel talking over the TV to ask Adam for back story, Adam politely informed him that he was about to rip his tongue out if he did not shut up and _watch_ the show. Of course, Samandriel didn't take that to be polite at all and didn't speak to him for well over an hour. Folded arms and pouty lips and everything.

They talked briefly, very briefly, about what Heaven was like. It was like Heaven. The Gates of Heaven weren't pearly, but that had always been a favorite theory of Samandriel's. Very pretty.

Angels didn't always look like humans with wings. In fact, certain branches of the hierarchy were extremely massive and couldn't go anywhere near humans without roasting them on accident. Oh, but those beast-like angels were some of the nicest. Kind of like whales. Fire-y whales of accidental murder. When asked about how the souls avoided getting toasted, Samandriel merely replied, "Oh, there are angels that make sure the souls stay where they should. Think of it like that shepherd-flock metaphor your Bible is very fond of." Then he smiled and Adam wondered if Heaven was as stress free as people tried to make others believe. He put his money on no.

When Adam tried to ask about who dished out orders and such to the angels, Samandriel locked up. He didn't know what he'd expected, really. They'd already touched on what was allowed and what wasn't regarding angel-human relations. Adam guessed that he was just going to have to drop that subject for good.

Needless to say, that was the end of the lesson on Heaven.

Just before dinner, as Adam's mind raced and Samandriel busied himself with Adam's English textbook, a thought occurred to him. It was completely unrelated to any of the thoughts that came before it, but it came all the same.

He was going to have to fix the guest bedroom himself.

Why he hadn't thought of that fact sooner, he didn't know, but it was glaring at him now like a neon sign. No way in hell would he be able to call someone to fix his damn house. One look at the sigils and Adam would be falsely accused of getting up to heinous crimes. He'd be shunned by society for the rest of his life. Becoming a doctor would be extremely hard when people'd think he'd just use his patients as sacrifices.

No, Adam Milligan was going to have to do the chore himself. Which was going to be difficult considering he'd never worked construction before in his life. He could Google how to fix a roof, maybe. Watch some YouTube videos, or something.

Or he could call Dean.

Immediately after his brain suggested such a thing, he wanted to murder it. Pound the grey matter into mush.

First of all, Dean was a mechanic, not a carpenter. He shouldn't be the first person on Adam's get-help-from list. Second of all, Adam didn't like Dean. The feeling was mutual.

They were half-brothers, sure. They'd spent some time together at awkward reunions, sure. But they were not family. Not in Adam's eyes; not in Dean's eyes.

Their standoff had originated with Dean. He was the eldest of John's sons and was old enough to remember Mary. Adam hadn't know about Mary. Hell, he hadn't known about any of the Winchesters before his twelfth birthday. It was Sam, always-trying-to-be-friends Sam, that had informed him, innocently, of what had happened to his and Dean's mother. How she'd died in a fire when Dean was just four.

Then Sam'd gone on to explain what happened to John. The sort of spiraling depression and the traveling. How he hadn't been able to stand still for too long without starting to feel trapped. How, because of this, he'd dragged Sam and Dean all over the country as he did odd jobs. How, eventually, he'd come to stop at Sioux Falls working for some man named Bobby Singer.

Bobby was like an uncle to them, Sam'd happily explained. Meanwhile, the entire time he'd been talking, Dean had glared at Adam any chance he'd gotten.

Adam knew why. He wasn't an idiot. Because the one little tidbit of info Sam had left out was that John Winchester had spent the night with one Kate Milligan in January of 1990. In Dean's little mind, such actions were an affront to his mother's memory. Adam was unwanted and Dean was damn well sure he was going to convey that message.

Adam had refused to be walked over. He had glared back just as intensely. And the discontent with one another only persisted through the years. Even after John's death.

Now, Adam had Dean's phone number. He knew that Dean was working for Bobby. He even knew what the man's favorite food was. But that was all because of Sam. Stubborn Sam trying to keep a family together that was never a family to begin with. Adam just didn't have the heart to break it to him.

Never in a million years would Adam call Dean. Or so he'd thought. Until Samandriel's grand entrance. Which kind of left him with no choice, really. If he called someone else, someone who got paid to fix things, they'd probably tell him, "We can do that if you'd pay us," and, when Adam would reveal that he had to do it himself, they'd say, "Welp, good luck with that. You're not getting our trade secrets." Click. Because people have to make a living.

It took Adam roughly thirty minutes to work up enough courage to actually open his phone, scroll down to Dean's number, and click 'Send.' As the line rang, Adam mentally scolded himself for his decision. Samandriel, of course, was none the wiser about his inner struggles. It took three rings for Dean to answer his phone. One ring before Adam planned to hang up.

"Hello," Dean's deep voice said. "What do ya need?"

Adam scoffed, "What makes you think I need something?"

"Because you wouldn't call me if you didn't have a reason," Dean stated easily. "And chatting wouldn't be one of your reasons."

Adam glared down at his coffee table. _Of course _Dean was right. That fact burned through Adam like acid. He didn't like giving the man a 'point.' Oh well.

"Do you know how to fix a roof and some windows?" Adam asked.

"Well, yeah," Dean replied. It sounded like he shifted his phone. "I spent a summer touching up some old places once. Why do you need to know that?"

"An angel fell through my roof," he deadpanned.

The look Samandriel gave him as he looked up from Adam's textbook was beyond priceless. Adam tried to keep his grin at bay but the corner of his lips betrayed him with a twitch. The angel squinted at him, pursing his lips as if he wanted to say something but couldn't, not with Adam on the phone.

There was a long pause from Dean before he questioned, "Are you stoned?"

"Now what kind of upstanding college student would I be if I was so high I was hallucinating, hmm, Dean?" Adam joked. "No. I'm not stoned. I don't know what caused the damage to my house, but it needs to be fixed before my landlady comes out of the hospital, has a coronary at the sight, and then winds up back in the hospital."

Samandriel seemed to relax a little at Adam's lie, but he was still giving him the stink-eye. Adorable. He turned back to the textbook just as Dean spoke.

"Uh-huh. Right, well. Do you have the supplies you need?"

"No."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Fix stuff without any supplies. I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you know what supplies to get."

"Not really, no."

"You-" Dean sighed loudly. "Why don't you just call someone? _Other_ than the guy hundreds of miles away?"

"Because I kinda don't wanna lose my deposit. If I called someone else, I'd have to tell my landlady, and it all goes downhill from there. So, why don't you be a good big brother and tell your littlest brother how to save his ass _and _his wallet?"

Amazingly, albeit with much complaining, Dean did just that. He talked about shingles and tar paper and ice dam barriers and vents and flashing-whatever the hell that was-until, eventually, he was through talking and Adam was more confused than he had ever been. Accepting the existence of angels was easier for his brain to comprehend than what the hell Dean'd just told him. Fuck carpentry and roofing, being a doctor was the way to go.

"You got all that?" Dean asked, the tone of voice signaling that he believed Adam did not.

"Yeah," Adam replied. "Yeah. That's. Yep. I'll get on that next week. Thanks, Dean."

"No problem, Adam. Send me a picture when you're done. I'm interested to see how your first lesson in construction turns out."

"Sure," Adam drawled. "Bye, Dean."

He hung up before his brother could get another word in. Adam glanced over at Samandriel. The angel was looking up through his lashes at him, interested in what Adam was going to say but not so interested as to raise his face from the book in his lap. Adam flipped his phone shut and announced:

"You're going to have to get better real soon because there is no way in hell I can fix that room myself."

Samandriel only smirked and went back to reading.


	4. Angels and Demons

One week. One week after his conversation with Dean was the amount of time it took for things to start turning weird. Well, weirder. It started around the four-day mark, really. Adam started noticing little feathers here and there. Understandable, he'd thought. Guy with wings hangin' around and all. Feathers were bound to be shed, right? Cats shed. Dogs shed. Maybe angels shed, too. He wasn't going to mention it.

Until Samandriel started being pouty. More-so than usual. Then bigger feathers could be found littering his floor. Especially in the little nest that Samandriel had made for himself in front of Adam's chest-o'-drawers.

And there were no other words to describe it. It _was_ a nest. People, normally, just laid out a thick blanket on the floor as a mattress and then used some thinner sheets to cover themselves with. Samandriel? No. He made this sort of circular shape of chaos with rolled up sheets around the edges.

He also slept mostly spread-eagle on his stomach, which was highly amusing to Adam. Especially in the early mornings when Adam wasn't quite awake enough to know it was a bit creepy to constantly stare at the sleeping angel, wondering if Samandriel was going to drool or not. Alas, he had yet to drool. Or snore. He wasn't giving Adam much material to work with in the teasing department.

Except for the feathers, of course. Adam _wasn't_ going to bring it up. He really wasn't. He could tell that this premature balding condition _thing_ was upsetting Samandriel on some level. So, he was just going to keep his mouth shut. However, when Adam found a primary feather about the size of his arm he decided the time for silence had come to an end. Because that was _slightly_ worrying.

Though, when he approached Samandriel, he noticed the look of consternation on the angel's face. Said look was directed at the floor, as if it had personally offended him. He also couldn't stand still for some reason. A joke about constipation cropped up in the back of Adam's mind but he decided against saying it. It probably wouldn't have been well received.

"Um," Adam tread carefully. "Samandriel?"

The angel's eyes darted up to meet his and then went right back to the floor. Adam assumed the other knew what he was going to bring up and that may be why Samandriel looked extremely embarrassed. Poor guy. Dealing with this condition at such a young age.

"There, uh. 's something-something going on? That I need to know about? Maybe?"

Samandriel huffed out of his nose and pulled his arms tighter around his chest. Now he just looked scolded and slightly pissed off. Damn. Perhaps Adam shouldn't have said anything.

"I mean it's fine. If you don't want to talk about it. It's just… They're increasing in number. And size. And I'm kind of worried of accidentally spearing my foot on one of 'em."

"They're itching," Samandriel hissed.

Adam was genuinely surprised at the other's tone of voice. He sounded livid. How dare his feathers betray him like that! Or something. Adam hadn't a clue. He did, however, kinda want to sit down on the couch. He felt Samandriel was about to go into rant mode and that could take a while. Adam's gaze flicked to the empty space where that primary feather had once resided on Samandriel's left wing. Yes, it could take a long while.

"Uh-huh," Adam prompted, sidling around Samandriel and the coffee table to the couch.

"I can't scratch them. I can't do anything with them. They're still sore from having been broken." Samandriel complained, his voice getting slightly higher, "And it's frustrating!"

Adam blinked slowly. He honestly had no idea what he was supposed to do in this situation. Was he supposed to offer moral support? Was he supposed to offer to scratch the guy's back? Was he supposed to apologize for his roof breaking Samandriel's fall or for accidentally dropping a box of shit on his wing? He just didn't know! So, he stared at Samandriel, waiting for the angel to give him some context clues.

Samandriel turned his head towards him, his eyes almost frantic. When Adam shrugged helplessly with his shoulders and hands, the angel whined and started to pace. Adam watched him carve a path between the TV and coffee table. He also seemed to be doing a fine job of carving his nails into the bends of his arms.

"Look," Adam tried to explain, "I want to help you, I do. But, you gotta enlighten me here, man. I don't have wings. I've never owned a bird. I don't know what the correct course of action is here."

"You bandaged my wings easily enough," Samandriel snapped.

Adam nodded, "The Internet. It's an amazing thing."

"Well, then… Just 'Google' what's happening to me. Since it was _so_ helpful last time."

"Samandriel. In the time it would take me to pull my laptop out of its bag, turn it on, wait for it to boot completely, bring up the web browser-."

"Yeah, okay, I get it."

"Is this some, like, puberty thing? Is that why you don't want to talk about it? Are your big boy feathers coming in?"

"Yenno."

Yeah, _that_ was a convincing dismissal. Adam had been teasing, of course. He hadn't really thought angels went through that sort of thing. Apparently, they did. He briefly wondered if the flaming whale ones also shed old feathers for new ones. Just like, 'Look out below!' as this giant piece of fire rained down on the unsuspecting souls beneath it.

"Wow," Adam said. "That's, um, awkward."

"No," Samandriel waved a hand. "It's not like puberty. Not like sexual maturation puberty. Angels don't even…"

Samandriel finally stopped pacing and fully faced Adam. His back was hunched over, his shoulders tense, his fingers still digging into his arms. Adam frowned. The wings must really, really itch if they were causing Samandriel that much discomfort.

"I don't know if I'm allowed to say this or not," Samandriel began. "Considering it's kind of giving away how angels work and stuff. But, frankly, I'm beyond caring at this point. So, y'know, who cares, right?"

Adam merely nodded. Yes, Samandriel was definitely itching to the point that it was unbearable. Because he wouldn't divulge Heaven's secrets unless his mind wasn't already completely occupied with something else. Also, he was beginning to use more humanistic lingo. Surely he'd picked up some, what with staying with Adam for so long, but he'd yet to _use_ it. Adam guessed it was because angels tended to go for a certain public image and using contractions like 'y'know' was just out of the question.

Samandriel took a deep breath and continued, "We're created with wings. Obviously. And we all have certain patterns on said wings. Mine are-were-white. Others have different colors. Sometimes, in an angel's life, things will happen to said angel and it will cause a change."

"_The_ change?"

"Stop that."

"Sorry."

"As you well know, I recently went through some stuff. And that affected my Grace. Grace powers an angel, including the wings."

"Ooh," Adam interrupted. "So, the Grace changed and it's now changing your feather pattern, or whatever?"

"Close enough," Samandriel confirmed before resuming his walk.

"I don't understand how there's anything wrong with that? Or embarrassing? Unless you guys consider it to be a private affair. I can not look at you for however long it takes for the feathers to come out…and in… If that's what you want?"

Samandriel dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. That was another expression he'd picked up from Adam. Adam was kind of strangely excited that the angel was starting to mimic him. He felt like he was making an impression on someone. Plus, it was fun thinking about this dude up in Heaven acting like him and confusing the other angels with the changes. A devious sort of fun.

"It's not private _or _embarrassing," Samandriel growled. He dropped his arms. "Okay, it is a little embarrassing. I'm probably going to look like a newborn bird at some point. But that's not the problem. The problem is: one, _the itching_ and two, every angel is going to know something went wrong because of my wings."

Oh. Right. The evil spirit things that were probably chasing Samandriel down after they'd fucked him up big time. Adam was happy having forgotten about those. One whole week of not remembering they were a thing. So much for peace of mind.

"Why is it a problem if they know something happened to you?" Adam questioned gently.

Some of the crankiness melted from the angel's face, only to be replaced with worry and regret. Not really a good switch, in Adam's opinion. The last thing he wanted to do was to emotionally upset Samandriel. But, he had a feeling the topic he was bringing up really should be addressed. Addressed until Samandriel stopped beating himself up over it. If that was even possible.

"It's because of your assignment, isn't it?"

"No," Samandriel muttered, refusing to look up from the floor. "Not completely. Angels aren't supposed to fail, that's true. And I'll no doubt face repercussions for that, but… They're going to want to know what caused my Grace to react enough to influence my physical form. I'll have to tell them. That's what I'm afraid of."

The atmosphere in the room had suddenly gotten heavy. Adam wanted to help Samandriel. He knew how the angel was feeling. Not for the same reasons, of course, but… Well, he was familiar with the emotions. And they sucked. However, Adam didn't know if there was anything he _could_ do to help the poor guy out.

"Can't you just," Adam tried, "blame it on my house? I'm assuming your injuries are what's caused this change, so…"

Samandriel tried to smile, "Your ceiling broke my wings, but it didn't cause me to fall. Or to not report in. Or to say some things I shouldn't have to some people I shouldn't have."

"You can't omit that?"

"No. My superior will know I'm lying, even if it's through omission."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

An awkward silence descended. Awkward because Samandriel probably thought he was being judged _by Adam_ for something Adam didn't even know he'd done, when the truth of the matter was Samandriel was judging himself. Awkward because Adam didn't think he had enough grounds to tell the angel that.

Really, Adam wasn't sure Samandriel wasn't being too hard on himself. Who knew how Heaven worked? Samandriel did. Maybe there was a legitimate reason for the angel to think he'd be treated harshly for whatever he had to say. Which Adam found bullshit but he couldn't really shake his fist in God's face.

Samandriel started fidgeting again. He was trying to roll his shoulders, which didn't accomplish much. His wings were twitching. Adam sighed. This was going to make the awkward worse, but at least it'd make one thing better.

"Samandriel, if it's bothering you so much, I _can_ scratch your back…wings…for you."

Adam almost laughed because Samandriel turned and looked at him with big, doe eyes so full of hope and relief that it was hilarious. But, to do that would be mean so, instead, he pushed himself from the couch and fetched a chair from the dining table. He placed it in Samandriel's usual spot, just shy of the entrance to the kitchen, and gestured for the angel to sit.

Samandriel seemed hesitant. His eyes bounced from Adam to the chair and back multiple times as he rocked from side to side. Adam waited patiently until, sure enough, Samandriel gave in and scampered towards him. He had to jump back to avoid being taken out by the angel's right wing as Samandriel plopped down hurriedly into the seat.

He didn't berate the angel for that, though. No, he let it slide and turned his attention towards Samandriel's back. It wasn't until he was looking directly at the source of the problem that Adam paused.

He had no idea what he was allowed to do. He knew Samandriel needed to be scratched, that Samandriel was willing to allow Adam to scratch him, he just had no idea what bits were safe to touch. The wings were healing fine. Far as he could tell, all of the breaks had been repaired. However, they were still bandaged and Samandriel had mentioned they were still sore. Adam didn't want to touch a particularly painful part and risk upsetting the other more than he already was.

"I don't-" He began, hand hovering over Samandriel's curved back where the wings connected with flesh.

"_Just scratch_," Samandriel hissed.

"Alright."

Adam placed his nails against the pale skin in front of him and did just that. Samandriel's immediate response was to slump forward completely and groan in relief. Again, amusing, but Adam refused to laugh.

"There any particular place it itches?" He asked.

"Everywhere," Samandriel groaned towards his feet.

Right. Everywhere. That was very helpful advice. Adam decided that 'everywhere' simply meant 'any place with flesh.' Feathers, to his knowledge, were like hair. They didn't feel anything. Where they connected to skin? That was a different matter.

Adam began with the right wing. Moving his fingers gently under the smaller feathers that rested over the muscle underneath. He tried not to press too hard with his nails, but he also had to be firm enough to move the feathers out of the way.

Samandriel didn't seem to find anything wrong with Adam's ministrations. He'd let his body relax completely. The wing would twitch every now and again, but he didn't cry out or even grunt, so Adam assumed he hadn't hit a sore spot. He wondered, briefly, if he was going to have to do the same for the front. However, his thoughts were quickly interrupted a few minutes later by a hum.

Adam hadn't noticed it, at first. His fingers had, in retrospect, but he'd been so focused on manipulating feathers that he missed the vibrations. Only when it reached his ears did he realize something was up. He didn't say anything, just furrowed his brow and kept scratching. For a solid minute. Until the sound was echoing through the whole room and he could feel it in his chest. _That _was when Adam decided that what was happening was weird. Not awkward, but weird.

He slowly leaned to the side to look at Samandriel's face. The angel had his eyes closed, a small smile on his face. He looked completely at peace. Blissful, even. Like a cat. Adam couldn't _not _say something at that.

"Are you purring?" He teased.

The small smile quickly disappeared from Samandriel's face, a scowl taking its place. The angel didn't even bother to open his eyes as he swiftly slid his leg around to kick Adam in the lower part of his right shin. Adam yelped, yanking his leg away while also trying not to flail into a wing.

"Alright!" Adam snapped. "Touchy subject! Don't bring up the purring. Got it."

Samandriel peeked at him, his lips forming an angry pout, before he settled back into place. Adam briefly contemplated not resuming his scratching duties. That hurt!

"It's not a touchy subject," Samandriel replied airily. "And it's not a purr. I was resonating. Which all angels do when they feel good. Content. At ease. What's 'touchy' is when you try making fun of me for something that comes natural to me."

Okay, yeah, he had a point there. Maybe. It wasn't like Samandriel had made fun of him for eating, or pooping, or any other trivial human thing angels didn't do that humans did. Perhaps he judged Adam's eating _habits_ but he certainly didn't poke fun at him for them. Adam huffed and grumpily placed his hand back on Samandriel's wing.

"Why haven't you resonated before, then?" He questioned. "If you were content. Unless you haven't been happy. What, am I doing something wrong? Do you not like it here?"

Samandriel had the nerve to laugh at him, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were offended."

"Well, yeah!" Adam exclaimed in his defense. "Who wants their guest feeling like shit? What kind of host would that make me?"

The angel was grinning, "I believe the word you used to describe me the first time we met was 'adorable.' Which is what you are being now. Relax, Adam, I've felt very content while staying here."

"Then why-?"

"Because wings, as I've mentioned before, are connected to my Grace. My true form. So…"

"Your…true form was what was resonating?" Adam tried guessing, moving his hand further along Samandriel's wing. "So, it's a more…biologically content thing? Similar to how cats work but totally not purring?"

"Close enough."

"Why is everything 'close enough' with you?"

"Because your human mind will never be able to comprehend the exact answer."

"Now you're making fun of _me_ for something that is inherent in _my_ species and something that I cannot help. I see how it is."

"Hmm."

This was becoming a regular occurring thing with Samandriel. Another one of Adam's traits that had rubbed off on him. Or perhaps it was simply a human one. The whole revenge trait. Take a perceived slight and flip it back around on the perpetrator until it's agreed said slight will never happen again. Ever. Just to avoid the aggravation and-or humiliation. Samandriel learned well.

Purring eventually resumed as Adam continued his work. He was going slow, being methodical. It took him roughly half-an-hour to finish their session. He had a feeling he may have to do another one. At least, until Samandriel's feathers had finished falling out and growing in. He just hoped the itching stayed away for a day or two. Adam was a little tired, restless, and there was a pile of feathers at his feet.

When the first had fallen out into his hand he'd nearly had a heart attack. At his sharp intake of breath, however, Samandriel had informed him that was normal. The angel was actually relieved he'd removed it. Told him to keep that up whenever he came across loose ones. Only loose ones, though. Otherwise, he'd pluck a healthy feather and that would cause pain. Like yanking out a clump of his own hair.

Samandriel thanked him for the grooming. He made a point to stress that Adam should consider himself blessed to have been able to touch an angel's wings, let alone groom them. Adam just nodded at him, knowing that Samandriel was trying desperately to mask his own embarrassment. Hey, extreme itching, man. It'll get someone to drop their guard every time.

Adam picked up the feathers, despite Samandriel's protests that he could do that. That he should do that, more like. It wasn't fair to the host to have to clean up after the guest. He should at least help Adam out.

Adam told him to shut it. It was his floor. He was the one that volunteered to groom in the first place. He could pick up the feathers. He had a young, healthy back. It wasn't going to kill him.

Yes, but.

No.

Samandriel was twitchy after that. His eyes would glance at Adam, only to look away quickly if he spotted Adam looking at him. At first, Adam didn't understand what was up. Samandriel had assured him the whole wing thing wasn't anything but innocent. So, that couldn't be the problem. It wasn't until Adam left the room to go fetch his books that he discovered the issue.

The angel was trying to repay him. Even though Adam had told him everything was fine. So, to do so, Samandriel had to be sneaky. His version of sneaky was to wait until Adam's back was turned to tidy up the kitchen. Not that there had been much to tidy up, but Adam distinctly remembered leaving a few plates in the sink and a cup or two. They were, now, in the dish drainer. He hadn't even heard the water running.

Adam didn't mention it. That seemed to be a running theme. Just don't mention it.

He, instead, reclaimed his seat on the couch and began his biology homework. Reading twenty some-odd pages. Yipee. He noticed Samandriel slowly inching his way towards the stairs out of his peripheral vision. Probably to go make his bed or something. Adam ignored him, flipping through his heavy textbook in search for the chapter he was supposed to be reading.

To his surprise, a piece of paper flittered out from somewhere near the back of the book. His class was nowhere near that section. Must be something a previous student had left behind. He'd bought all his books used, after all.

Eager to see what was on the folded slip of paper-whether they were important notes he could bum off later or not-Adam paused his searching to open the paper. What he saw made his hair stand on end. Written in red ink and taking up every bit of clear space on the page were sigils. All of them strange and some looking extremely too familiar for his peace of mind. Eyes glancing to the top margin, Adam choked at the title.

_Demon Protection Sigils._

Adam momentarily forgot how to breathe. He didn't know how these sigils got in this book. The odds of them being written down by some occult fanatic and left behind in a book he was going to purchase later. If destiny was even a thing or not. All he knew was that at least half of these symbols were splattered in angel's blood on his walls upstairs. At least, he was pretty sure. He hadn't seen them in a week, but his memory wasn't _that_ foggy. No, they had to be the same sigils. Which meant that Samandriel was protecting them from demons.

_Demons_. As in nasty buggers with pitchforks that liked torturing souls in Hell. _Demons_. As in the antithesis to angels and their sworn enemies. _Demons_. As in the things that had to have been the cause of Samandriel's injuries when he crashed into Adam's house. The things Samandriel had given information to because of torture. The things that were probably chasing him, still, and would probably not think twice of fucking Adam's shit up, too.

Those demons.

Paper clasped tightly in his fist, Adam threw his biology book off his lap, onto the couch, and bolted up the stairs. He was going to check the sigils. He was going to confirm it, now, and then he was going to freak out more. Then, he was most likely going to confront Samandriel. Because itchy wings were one thing. Cleaning dishes was one thing. He could easily not mention those things. Keeping the existence of demons and their intent towards the angel was completely different. That sounded like some deep shit. Adam didn't want to be in deep shit.

Samandriel squawked in surprise, hopping back from the top landing of the staircase as Adam flew past him on his way towards the guest bedroom. The angel called out to him, but Adam wasn't stopping. He flung the door open, ready to get to work. Only…much to his surprise and faint dismay, the sigils were gone. The hole was gone. The windows were fixed. Adam's mind ground to a halt.

"I…" Samandriel said from somewhere behind him. "I was. Well, you needed it fixed. And I said I would when I was healed. And, I mean. I'm not _healed_ healed, but I had enough Grace to fix the mess I made. And you groomed my wings. So."

Adam spun around and waved the crumpled notebook paper in his hand under Samandriel's nose.

"What is this?" He demanded.

Samandriel looked cross-eyed and confused at the page. "Paper?"

"Haha, you're a riot. What's _on_ the paper, genius!"

Samandriel frowned at him, not at all approving of his sarcastic tone, but he gently removed the page from Adam's grasp and smoothed it open. After he did, his face grew uncharacteristically pale for an angel. Adam felt amazingly smug.

"Yeah, see!" He snapped. "Didn't think I'd find out, did ya? That there are _demons_. And that they are _chasing you_. Why didn't you tell me? And don't give me that 'I can't divulge info' bullshit again!"

Samandriel surprised Adam by ignoring him in favor of glaring at the piece of paper in his hands. As if it were the problem here and not the secrecy the angel swore by. Adam had half a mind to snatch the page away from Samandriel just to gain his attention again.

"That trickster," Samandriel hissed.

"What?" Adam asked, confused as to what that had to do with demons.

"Look at him. He's even so cheeky as to sign the paper with his sigil!"

"Him who? What?" Adam flailed his arms. "Demons! You! Secrecy! Answers! _Now!_"

The angel finally looked up from the paper to stare blankly at him.

"Yes, demons. Okay? Are you happy, Adam? Now that you know there is an embodiment of evil out there. One that is capable of tearing an angel down to their very core? One that will hunt an angel down like a pack of ravenous dogs? Are you happy knowing that?"

"No!"

"Then why do you want to know?"

Adam's mouth worked as he tried to come up with an answer. One that would make Samandriel understand what the issue was. The thing that was irking Adam the most.

"Samandriel," Adam began. "Ignorance is not bliss. It's a saying you've probably heard in your travels around on Earth, gifting people with whatever inspiration they need. But it's a shitty saying. Happiness that comes from ignorance is a lie. Yes, it upsets me to know demons exist and everything that comes with it. Yes, it upsets me to know they're after you and, by extension, probably even me. But I'd rather know that so I knew how to protect myself and you from them.

"Do you have any idea what could have happened if they'd shown up and I didn't know what we were dealing with? What if I was prepared for a ghost, or-or something, and it was a fucking demon instead? Hell, I don't even know how to get rid of a ghost, really. But a demon? That's even stronger! Right? I mean, I'm assuming. They fucked you up pretty good.

"You're not _protecting me_ by keeping me in the dark about the very thing that could make me its enemy. You're hindering me."

Thankfully, Samandriel seemed to understand what he was saying. The angel looked uncomfortable. Remorseful even. Which wasn't something Adam had been aiming for, but at least he'd gotten his point across. Samandriel held the paper back out to Adam, which he took gingerly. Trying to show the angel he wasn't angry at _him,_ per se. Just his choice.

"I'm sorry," Samandriel replied quietly. "But that's the least of your worries, now."

Adam frowned, "What does that mean?"

Before Samandriel could speak, a knock sounded from his front door. Great. Visitors. Just what he needed. Unwanted company while he was having a much needed conversation with his roommate. Speaking of roommate. Adam eyed the wings behind Samandriel's back. He pointed at them.

"Hide," he commanded.

Samandriel nodded and slunk back to his room. Adam walked down his stairs, shoving the crumpled paper into his back pocket. Gripping the knob of the door handle, his mind briefly wandered to his neighbor on the left. That kind, motherly woman that had asked him if everything was alright weeks ago. Adam hoped she wasn't stopping by to ask him why the hole in his roof and his windows were suddenly fixed with no sound of banging and no sign of repairmen entering or leaving his premises. Because he really didn't think he could come up with a convincing enough lie.

The woman who was standing on the other side of his door when he pulled it open, however, was not his neighbor. She looked nothing at all like his neighbor. For one, his neighbor was white. This woman was not. Brown skin, long dark hair, bit of an oval face. For another, she did not appear the motherly type. That may be because of the furious scowl she was directing at him.

Adam thought about opening his mouth to introduce himself and ask why this lady was so pissed and why she was standing on his doorstep. Before he could open his mouth, however, the woman used one hand to push him out of the way and barged into his house.

Adam was no lawyer. That was Sam's department. But, he was pretty sure that what had just happened was forced entry. That was illegal and, most definitely, not wanted. Adam would not stand for it.

"Um," Adam said forcefully, glaring at the intruder as she glanced quickly around his house. "What the hell are you doing?"

The woman spun to face him, glare intensifying, and, much to Adam's surprise, let loose two huge wings from her back. He watched the feathered appendages rise over her head in what had to be an aggressive display. They were colored differently than Samandriel's. Orange, light browns, and reds streaked through them like a canyon wall. Very impressive. Very pretty. Unfortunately, Adam wasn't intimidated in the least.

"Where is Samandriel!" She demanded, small fists clenched by her sides. "I know you are keeping him here!"

"No," Adam explained.

He wasn't keeping Samandriel. Samandriel chose to stay until his wings healed well enough for him to flit on back to Heaven. Then he could do whatever debriefing thing he needed to do, his superior would tell him off for failing a mission, Samandriel might be put on leave for a bit, and then he'd go right back to allowing people to follow their imaginations. However, before he could reveal any of that, Adam found himself slung up against the wall next to the door by some invisible force and held there, his feet dangling a good foot off the ground.

Telekinesis. Fancy that. Made sense, all things considered. Too bad he had to find that little trick out by pissing one off for all the wrong reasons, those reasons including a failure to communicate. It was hard to do anything but grunt in pain when his whole body felt like it was slowly being squeezed by a vice grip. So, he couldn't really do anything about the lack of understanding the angry angel in front of him had of the whole situation. Luckily for him, Samandriel had heard the angry shout and following thud of Adam's body against the wall. Samandriel ran down the stairs faster than Adam had ever seen him move.

"Hael, no!" Samandriel shouted, running in front of the new angel to slap her outstretched arm down.

Adam fell to the floor in a painful, crumpled heap. He expressed such pain with a strained ow.

"Samandriel," Hael greeted, her dark eyes roaming the other angel's body. She frowned, "What has happened to you? Why are you injured? Is this why you haven't returned home?"

Adam didn't have the will to be offended when Hael's gaze snapped angrily back down at him. He was too busy focusing on getting back to his feet and shaking off the pins and needles feeling that almost all of his nerves were giving off at once. Samandriel tried to rein in her wrath again by placing himself a little further in front of Adam.

"He didn't do this to me," he said gently. "He helped me. He's the one who bandaged my wings. You don't have to fight him to free me. Please, sister."

Hael furled her nose, as if the idea a lowly human helping an angel out was offensive, but she pulled her wings back into her body. At least, Adam supposed that was what she'd done. They'd folded inward and then just vanished as easily as they'd appeared. She still didn't seem to like him that much, however.

Samandriel bent down to help him to his feet. Adam swayed a little, but he managed to lock his knees. Samandriel looked worried about his condition but he shrugged it off.

"So. Friend of yours?" Adam asked peevishly.

"Sister, actually." Samandriel replied, hesitant smile twitching the corner of his lips. "Angels are all…kind of related…"

"Samandriel!" Hael scolded.

He flinched a little before mumbling, "He already knows more than that."

"And you thought that information was pertinent to a human because?"

"He's already seen things that he shouldn't have," Samandriel shrugged with his hands. "What does it matter if he knows other stuff that his kind can easily find in a book somewhere?"

Hael frowned, "You know as well as I do that there is a difference between believing something to be true and knowing it as truth. Revealing secrets is not allowed because it corrupts the ability to choose. Michael will not be pleased to hear about how much you've let slip. Nor will he be pleased to find out you let your guard down and wound up injured."

"Whoa, hey," Adam spoke up. "Hi. Yeah. I'm the guy who had to scrape your brother off his floor. The one who had to see the extent of his injuries and, lemme tell ya, they were pretty intense. So, if you could, could you _not_ blame Samandriel for getting said injuries? I mean, it's not like he _wanted _to be tortured and shit. Lay off."

Hael turned her attention back towards him and the scowl returned, "You would do well to hold your tongue. Especially over matters that don't concern you."

Adam nodded, "Oh, really? They don't concern me? _He fell through my roof_. I think that kind of puts me on the map for shit that concerns me. And, as far as _I'm_ concerned, this is _my _house. I'm not holding my tongue under my own damn roof. So, you can take your holier-than-thou attitude and cram it. You can tell this Michael-whoever that is, if that's who I think it is-that if he has a problem with his little angels being roughed up than maybe he should take it out on the assholes who did it instead of blame the victim. Hmm?"

"Adam," Samandriel whispered harshly.

"What?"

Hael continued to glare at him. He really didn't care. He'd be damned if he sat around and let these asshole angels pick on their own. Especially Samandriel and what he'd been through. Who did that?

Then, Hael's glare slowly melted. Adam blinked as he watched the young woman's features transform into a small smile. She seemed pleased. Adam was beyond confused, but he was going to assume he'd made his point. Hael turned her smile onto Samandriel.

"He's fearless. Righteous. I see now why you decided to stay with him while you healed. He'll be very good at handling anything that comes his way."

Samandriel didn't reply. He merely bowed his head. Adam was a little surprised to see a faint blush appear on the angel's cheeks. He turned his attention back to Hael.

"'Anything that comes my way?' What does that mean? Demons?" Adam asked.

Hael glanced at him briefly, "Among other things. Angels, perhaps?"

It was a teasing tone, but Adam had a sneaky suspicion she was being serious. If her earlier behavior was anything to go by, she may just be warning him about more overprotective siblings showing up at his door. Wonderful. His house was going to become a traffic center for family reunions. Yipee. He was ever so fond of family reunions.

"Well," Hael began. "I came here to rescue you, brother, but I see that's not necessary. I will inform Michael-"

"No!" Samandriel said quickly. At the tilt of Hael's head, Samandriel continued, "I'll… I'll tell him myself. Don't worry about it."

Hael frowned, "Very well. I'll leave you to it, then. But you really should tell Michael. The sooner the better. Before the next angels showing up at your friend's doorsteps are here under orders. And not for a _friendly_ visit."

Samandriel stiffened, standing at his full height. He nodded his understanding. It was a little disturbing seeing him act like… Well, like a soldier. Adam didn't like it. Hael nodded back, signaling the conversation was over. Adam would have shown her door. If she hadn't vanished into thin air mid-blink.

"Ho!" Adam jumped, staring at the now empty space. "Since when did you guys teleport?"

"We don't," Samandriel replied simply. "We fly."

Adam slowly turned to face him. He stared at Samandriel. Samandriel smiled.

"Faster than you can imagine, I might add."

"Right." Adam said. "Sure. Short visit, wasn't it?"

"Did you want her to stay longer?"

"Nooo."

"Then it worked out for everyone." Samandriel's smile dimmed, "Hael's not a bad person. She's just very…forceful. When she wants to be. Or when she needs to be. Then again, I wouldn't expect anything less from the angel that carved the Grand Canyon."

Adam frowned at that.

"I thought the Colorado River did that."

"It had to start somewhere," Samandriel smirked. "Just as angels influence human activity, we've also been known to inspire nature. Hael's an angel of creativity. She envisioned the Grand Canyon and put things in motion to make it happen. I'm sure you noticed her wings?"

Adam nodded.

"She's _very _proud of the Canyon…"

"Uh-huh."

So, Adam had a lot to think about. Angels. Demons. Geological phenomenon that could possibly be the work of divine intervention. His homework that he'd haphazardly thrown to the side at the discovery of demons. Speaking of demons.

"You do realize that you're going to have to teach me how to protect myself against hellspawn, right?" Adam asked.

Samandriel's smile dropped completely at that. The mirth in his eyes died. He sighed, turning away from Adam.

"I don't want to," he mumbled. "You're right, of course. I have to. Because no one else will. The 'person' who gave those sigils definitely won't go any further than they did. But I don't want to."

"Why not?" Adam tried to tease. He didn't like how heavy the air seemed to be getting between them. "Is the training too rigorous for the 'fearless' and 'righteous' man?"

"No. Quite the opposite, in fact. A child could defend themselves against demons given the right tools and know-how."

"Then why?"

"Because to prepare you against a demon attack means I have to face the fact that I'm the one putting you in danger of one."

Samandriel finally looked back at Adam. He didn't like the look in the angel's eyes. He looked defeated. Remorseful again. Like everything was his fault. Which wasn't true at all. Hell, the guy was probably feeling guilty for escaping in the first place. 'Oh, if only I hadn't crashed into this poor human's house. I'm such a miserable excuse for an angel of the Lord.' Yeah, well. Fuck that.

Without warning, Adam reached out and dug his fingers into Samandriel's naked sides. The angel had, apparently, never been tickled before. His reaction was hilarious. He shrieked, frozen in shock for a second, before he hopped away with a firm slap at Adam's hands. The indignant pout aimed at Adam was not going to wipe the devious grin off his face anytime soon.

And then the indignant pout became a determined glare.

And the devious grin faltered.

And Adam was lunged at with the same speed Samandriel used to clear the stairs.


End file.
